


Lost Days

by EzAlter



Series: Lost Days [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Cayde being Cayde, Character Death In Dream, Confrontations, Depression, Existential Crisis, It's only the first chapter. Be patient., Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Right off the back my character's an asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:17:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10342830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzAlter/pseuds/EzAlter
Summary: In the midst of an unsurprising existential crisis, wayward Awoken Hunter, Ashe Winters lives out her days as a Guardian, despite them feeling empty—or lost even—as she begins to question this harrowing second life she is forced to live.





	1. Fire and Ashe

“I don’t know why you insist on doing this every morning,” a Ghost whined, it’s internal circuitry grinding with irritation.

“You know for an AI, you complain a lot.”

Year 2631, 0600 hours, Tuesday morning.

Earth’s orbit.

Space’s grasp was vast and everlasting, and its view had remained even greater than that calibre for the last eternity. It was an interstellar spectacle of distant worlds, and star stuff, which, even when broomed through thoroughly, not even the most seasoned of space explorers would find every nook and cranny of this all-omnipotent being.

Just off the coast of the distant Planet Earth, not so far from it’s atmosphere was a Guardian class jumpship, floating off in the embrace of space. Inside it was what one would expect; a Guardian herself—Hunter class—and the Ghost who oft criticised her of the many unhealthy decisions she dared to make.

Ashe Winters was very enthusiastic about the sunrise, and viewing it from space at that.

Her Ghost, who she had cleverly given the name of Blink—an odd name from a being from some Golden Age program used for children’s amusement—was barely accepting of her latest escapades, mostly the ones that would land the both of them in trouble with the Vanguard. He would often advise against Ashe’s rash decisions, but alas, she never even considered the consequences. But that’s how she was on leisure time. On missions, the Hunter was often compared to Cayde-6 when it came to getting things done.

She didn’t care how she did it—as long as it was set and over with.

If anything, Blink was the voice of reason in these types of situations, that Ashe had no intention to listen to anytime soon.

The Ghost floated near Ashe’s head, whirring it’s gears in irritation and worry while the Hunter had a big smirk plastered on her face.

“So tell me; are you insane? Because Zavala tells you, personally, time and time again to not linger outside of Earth’s orbit—due to the fact that Fallen ships could easily pick you up on their scans, and are oh-so eager for Guardian blood to be spilled.”

“So?”

“And yet, you continue to do it!”

“Uhuh.”

“Why!?”

Ashe turned her gaze out of her ship’s port window, a resolute curve of her lips still plastered on her face. She appeared to be amazed, enveloped in the type of awe that a child would have. She directed her Ghost’s attention out to space with a point. “Because [i]on[/i] Earth, you’ll never get to see something like this.”

The black and white patterned shell turned, and his single eye blinked for a moment.

Through the ship’s window, the sun glared, reflecting from the very surface of the large blue planet before the two. It’s golden view were like brightly shining arms made of pure light, wrapping around the sky. This sight enthralled Ashe; brought out expressions from her no other Guardian or Ghost would ever hope to coax. It was a simple thing to be so fixated with, yes. But in times like these, the small things were all a person—even a Guardian—could ever want before everything turned to shit. It wasn’t out of the ordinary at all, especially for a Hunter, to have an interest for something of nature and science. Warlocks were often the same, even more with science, however, and Titans with their trinkets—items from a distant time before The Collapse that managed to maintain their shape and form.

In particular, Ashe was interested in the sun, and strangely enough, she was hardly a Gunslinger.

The Awoken woman sighed with elation in her voice before her hands reached over, and touched the controls of her ship.

“Sit tight. We’re going back.”

The Traveler.

It was practically within the grasps of those who beheld it’s somber-like presence. While yes, life no longer stirred within it, it remained a moniker of hope to those who beheld its glory—a metaphorical and funnily enough, literal sigil of Light, which spurred on the desires for peace—to drive Guardians and humans alike to fight for the day where Darkness would no longer lust for their lives.

At least, that was what everyone’s beloved Speaker would tell them. And repeat like a mantra.

In truth, the Traveler was only a facade. A lie, and the Speaker along with it. It was only a gargantuan floating ball that smelled faintly of vanilla; casting an overbearing shadow on top of The Last City.

While, yes, it did well to stave off the Dark; as ever-growing and infinite as a plague. With as much as the concept of Light was deconstructed, only to be revealed as something so morbid, Guardians—those who are lost to natural causes, who defy death constantly—it was a necessary evil. Knowing so, must such a wonderful falsehood be broken?

Would it even be insulted to be called something wonderful?

These were Ashe’s constant thoughts, day and night. In space. On patrols. Even on supply runs, such things would not leave the Hunter’s mind, that she figured someone such as her might as well had been a Warlock. Funnily enough, not even their kind questioned this very way of life. Instead, they had their heads buried in a book, wondering why the Moon wasn’t made of cheese, or something along the lines.

Was everyone content with this life, though? Constantly fighting, while knowing that even something as majestic as the Traveler casted darkness as well? Maybe they didn’t know, and continued to go about life as normal.

Was that the life Ashe wanted to lead? Would she had rather been as ignorant as any other Guardian?

A neon glare turned over towards the Hunter, from an Exo from the same class. Rather it was her mentor, a member of the Vanguard, Cayde.

She pretended to not notice him at first, and Cayde pretended to actually be angry. He knew Ashe’s schtick better than anyone else did, that and he had to put on a good show for the other two Vanguard members.

“Look, I’m not saying that you can’t handle yourself,” he began, his geared jaw illuminating for every time a syllable sounded. “But we made it clear that Guardians aren’t allowed to linger in orbit like that. We wouldn’t want you getting fried by the Fallen or, whatever is out there. You’re too valuable an ally to lose, Ashe.”

There was an inkling of a moment where her eyes turned to the Exo, then passed over to Zavala who wore that eternally stern expression, and finally to Ikora, forever to be carelessly buried in her collection of pre-collapse books and ancient texts of dragons and whatnot.

“Is that why you’re sticking me with a permanent fireteam? For the fifth time?”

“Sixth. Franz was only one man, but we thought he could really…” Cayde’s eyes darted behind him so indecisively as he could feel the tension rise. “Keep you in check. Zavala’s words. Not mine.”

As if on cue, the Titan stepped forward and stood adjacent to Cayde, looking down on the wayward Awoken Hunter who quirked an incredulous brow back at him.

“You are a menace to those around you and yourself, Winters. That Ghost won’t last long with this continued behavior,” the big blue statue according to Cayde bellowed. “Show more pride as a Guardian, and perhaps this would be a permanent fireteam for you. But time and time again, your lack of tact either drives them away or worse, get them—”

“You act as if I want to be on someone’s leash.”

She didn’t realize it before, but the negative effect of her reflexes were showcased right there. Ashe was already standing up, staring down the Commander.

Me and my big mouth, the sensible part of Ashe thought, grimacing.

Zavala wasn’t phased however. That stoney-faced Awoken didn’t even flinch when Ashe engaged in a stand-off with him.

If Cayde had sweat glands, he would’ve been soaked.

And there was Ikora, still immersed in her books, a care spared not.

For a moment there, Ashe thought she was going to find her entire body rocked to it’s core from a Storm Fist—and then the Tower would have a fight on it’s hands—but she knew Zavala better than that. He wasn’t your average, everyday Titan, mindlessly punching things that provoked them.

“Your team will be issued to you tomorrow, Winters. In the meantime, you’re dismissed.”

Fuck you, the irrationally angry side of Ashe wanted to say. She really did. With a click of her tongue, she turned on a heel and stormed off.

As the Hunter reached the hall, her Ghost materialized next to her, following the hastened pace she walked, giving her a look of counsel that said a lot without words.

Don’t give me that, Ashe looked back.

“That could have went better. You know Commander Zavala is like a rock on this sort of thing.”

“I know he has more authority than he does brains, and throws that around mindlessly.” She continued walking, towards the Tower’s hanger where she passed by overhung logos, riddled through the place, used as daily reminders to what she was brought back from the dead to become.

“You and I both know that isn’t true—and where are you going?”

“The Cosmodrome.” She let only a second pass before speaking again, not enough time for Blink to ask why she was going to such a place. “I need to blow off some steam.”

“Oh, nothing says blowing off steam like firing lead into the filters of a Fallen Captain’s Ether mask.”

“The ship, Blink.” Ashe’s voice was laced with impatience. She walked past the floating AI, and it in turn whirred with exasperation at her soiled countenance.

With a sigh, the Ghost soon phased out of existence. Ashe did as well once her all-around grey jumpship revealed itself in the hanger, rising up along the platform as if being offered to her by a mechanical host within the Tower. With a pull of the throttle and a few flips of a couple switches, the engines roared to life and the ship took off, the Cosmodrome of Old Russia in mind as it’s destination.


	2. Reinforcements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engaged in battle with a squad of Fallen reinforcements, Ashe receives a bit of assistance herself.

Her sparrow darted through the barren wasteland, clouds of dust rising in it’s wake. Swift torrents of the cold wind swayed over the Guardian’s helmet, particles of dirt caking her visor.She glanced at pre-Golden Age structures—old abandoned buildings, vehicles, airships; aged reminders of humanity’s many exploits and strides… reminders of what the world was before the light was overlapped by the dark… and thought of what it could have been without it.

“Quite the show you put on in the Consensus Hall.” The Hunter Vanguard Cayde-6 was transmitted through Ashe’s Ghost, his voice smug. “Zavala’s got a much better impression of you.”

The lady Guardian scoffed. Her sparrow stopped, landing atop a hill, and Ashe disembarked. She gazed upon a shipyard; torn by the Collapse. Normally such a place would appear mostly empty to the naked eye, of Guardians anyway. Patrolling the perimeters of the washed-ashore ships, a pack of Fallen Dregs, complete with a single Captain scavenged through; all at watch for the next unlucky Guardian to pass by.Unfortunately for them, they all were in the irritated Hunter’s sights.

“He’s a tool. That damn Warmind’s got more personality than he does.” Ashe took a seat, sliding her LDR 5001 sniper rifle from the holster on her back, holding it by it’s grip. The shortgaze scope she had been saving was locked into place, as well as the magazine.

She wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, but Cayde probably snickered on the other end.

“Hey, Zavala means well. He just… has a simple and steadfast way of showing that. You know how Titans are.”

“Brainless? Think the be-all end-all way of things fall upon their fists? Sure.”

“Y’know Ashe, I think you would have a lot more friends if you weren’t—”

“A bitch?” 

“Hey, your words; not mine.”

Letting a chuckle unravel from her lungs, Ashe smirked under her helmet as the assembly of her rifle was complete. She found a rock to hug and aimed down the scope, marking a few Dregs with a single eye. “We’re at war with a pack of aliens that want our light and you want me to make friends? Not the greatest advice, Cayde, I’ll admit.”

“Har har. Look—as much as I hate to admit, even more to agree with the big blue light bulb; you can’t just fly solo on every mission the Vanguard scoops up for you. Dreksis was one thing. But that doesn’t mean every Fallen Kell is just gonna fall for the same tricks—”

His voice was cut off and drowned out via the sudden discharge of Ashe’s rifle. The bullet traveled fast,  ended up burrowing itself inside the skull of a Dreg, sending it crumbling to the ground. Dead. Popping the chamber, the Hunter fired another round, then another. Each shot fired illuminated the muzzle, ricocheting light off the visor of her helmet, knocking her shoulder back with each kick of its recoil.  For the next minute, she was picking off the unsuspecting, now panicking pack of Fallen with the simplicity of subtle trigger pulls. Never once did her aim stray from its target. It was true as a veteran Guardian’s light, burning brightly as each Eliksni fell for the final time.

And she did such a thing with ire.

It was then that the Guardian finally stopped to load a fresh magazine into her rifle. That was also about the same time she was able to hear Cayde again.

“...Not funny,” the Exo only said.

Not that he could see, but Ashe was definitely smirking under her helmet.

That joy was short-lived however. In her rave of gunfire, Ashe had missed her mark and was too entranced to notice. The Fallen captain, which had just now recharged its shields emerged from the aged wreckage, sending a loathsome glare up at the Hunter in her hiding spot.

Ashe swore under her breath. “Cayde, I’ll call you back.”

As she ended transmission, the Hunter tucked her rifle under her cloak and immediately slid a handcannon from its holster. “Guess we’re doing this,” she mumbled, vaulting off the hill she was previously held up in, sliding down along the dirt and snow towards the Captain. She swore that she could hear its bloodcurdling roars echo through the valley. Couldn’t tell. The Awoken’s ears were still ringing.

She was staring down the sight, and with a few pulls of the trigger, the Cosmodrome echoed with gunfire once more. As she reached the bottom of the hill, with velocity and momentum too great, the Hunter found herself slamming into the side of an old bomber plane. Ignoring the pain, she kept her back along the steel of her newfound cover, reloading her handcannon.

Behind her, past the sea of old world vehicles, Ashe could hear the Captain spout something in it’s native tongue whilst firing it’s shrapnel launcher in retaliation, the heat of it’s bullets bombarding the bomber. Even with her armor protecting her, along with the extreme cold of Old Russia, Ashe could still feel the radiating solar energy bounce and surge onto her. She winced, and held her ground to endure. It was only one Captain. She could take him.

“Now or never,” she whispered with rising excitement.

Ashe was a crumb short from darting out towards the Captain, gung ho, with battle and bloodshed in her mind... she was also close to being disintegrated by the turret of a skiff.

The ground blossomed before her by a smidget, and she fell backwards into the makeshift shelter, slamming flatly onto the ground. The Awoken hastily scooped up her handcannon and started into a mad dash elsewhere. That cover wasn’t going to last forever at this rate. She moved as quickly as she could manage, ignoring everything around her; the gunfire, and the Vandals that had disembarked from the skiff as well.

While fleeing, the Hunter swore under her breath again as she caught a glimpse of them already setting up. “Damn wire rifles…”

It wouldn’t have come as a surprise but Ashe always had some sort of unusual hatred for the Fallen. Some would think it was general knowledge that the Awoken had a personal vendetta against their ilk. It was, of course—at the moment’s discretion alone. The wire-riddled, ever-mechanical Vex were unfeeling, calculative, and precise. The Cabal were like walking tanks—brutish and unmoving in their assaults. The writhing Hive and Taken operated under one collective mind.

The Hunter didn’t mind any of them. To her, they were extra targets to plug bullets into. The Fallen? An extra, relentless pain in her ass.

Before she could shift her focus back to the quarry at hand, a sharp, searing pain injected itself into the Awoken’s right shoulder, puncturing through her shields straight off. Ashe tumbled, sliding along the ground with a grimace. Using her forearm to steady her shoulder’s aim, she snapped her handcannon towards one of the Vandals and unloaded as her Ghost began the process for regeneration.

It was fruitless, however—with her arm injured, the Hunter’s chances of perfect aim were dashed completely.

“Now would be a good time to call Cayde back,” Blink buzzed.

“Why?” Ashe snapped, “To hear him gloat?”

“To... call for reinforcements?” The Ghost said this as if it were common sense to.

“Bite me! I don’t need help!”

“Okay, wow. You clearly like dying.”

“And you clearly like running your mouth while you’re supposed to be fixing my arm!”

Blink’s entire shell shook from left to right with disappointment and he phased out of thin air. Slowly, Ashe could feel the wound in her shoulder close up, and the pain subsided just for that moment. Her only problems were the Vandals and that one Captain now.

As she peeked out from the ship a gasp left her lungs. She spotted a Vandal, which had gotten a bead on Ashe, charging it’s wire rifle. She felt like a target lying prone in that instant.

The Hunter indeed could hear the discharge of the Vandal’s weapon, but she wasn’t a corpse, and her Ghost wasn’t floating above her charging itself for a momentary revival. Cautiously, she peeked out again and had seen that said Vandal was instead reduced to a flickering charge of arc energy.

It was difficult to tell under the cover of her helmet, but Ashe was genuinely surprised.

Could there be some brave Vandal willing to betray their own kind, and for this wayward Guardian’s sake?

Bewilderment riddled Ashe’s mind as the answer refused to make itself known to her. Only gunfire from a locationless Wire Rifle kept her attention.

Okay, focus.

The Hunter stopped to breathe, and listen out through the confused clamours of the Fallen behind her. She needed to find where it was coming from. Unlike the other Vandals, this one was actually decent at concealing itself that even a Nightstalker of Ashe’s caliber couldn’t track it. She had to focus, take all that training into account, and harness her light.

It was then that the Awoken finally exhaled, and held her hand cannon closely. She listened out through the crowd, repressing everything around her.

_BOOM._

_BOOM._

_BOOM._

There.

With a start, Ashe took off in a mad dash through an overpass of ships, firing off whatever haphazard rounds she was able. As she took a quick glance towards a small mountain in the distance, she a spotted a small cave, and within it, a gleaming red light which shined off her helmet’s visor beamed through the shadows. She was right.

As she glimpsed around the area, there were still too many to manage alone. One captain, and a pack of Vandals practically climbing over each other just to get to one Guardian. They didn’t even seem concerned about the sniper; only the one they could see.

A smirk emerged from under the Guardian’s helmet. Not that they could tell, but the surrounded Ashe Winters had gained a sudden surge of confidence. Her light was welling up inside her, brimming to the point where it became visible. An aura taking the hue of purple—a cloak wreathed in pure void light—enveloped Ashe, swathing her appearance. In her hand, a bow materialized, manifested from the Void itself. She pulled back on the bow string, it’s luminescence flourishing for that moment—and a sharp surge of energy bursted through the battlefield, slamming into the Captain before it was given a  chance to react. In correspondence—like a spun web, taking its victims hostage—multiple beams of void light shot out and bound the remaining Vandals, tethering them to the ground.

With the Fallen at her mercy, Ashe drew her hand cannon. She took her time as she unloaded single rounds into their heads, executing them one by one.

She saved the Captain for last, making him watch as his entire team was wiped out. The Hunter placed the barrel of her gun along the sole Fallen’s head, staring him dead in the eye with concentrated ire from behind her helmet.

Before her finger could pull the trigger, the Captain gazed upwards to the Hunter and uttered something in her tongue—a human’s tongue.

“ _Reefborn. You… belong... to Winter Kell. We know armor… white as snow. Draksis live on foreve—”_

The discharge of the Awoken’s hand cannon reverberated through the valley, and the Captain laid on the ground, dead. Ashe peered down at its corpse, her lungs ran ragged as she panted, with simmering fury laced within her voice.

Her hands absently caressed the cloth around her neck, and clenched the nearly blanked out insignia—a collection of white branches descending in various diagonal directions, almost appearing as a tree. Like the cloak, the insignia was pure white, matching the shader of Ashe’s armor, as if done intentionally to conceal it.

“Poor guy. Denial gets the better of us,” she hissed silently.

A set of footsteps then sounded behind Ashe. They sounded deliberate, almost as if they wanted the Hunter to know of their presence. Was it the Vandal?

Ashe immediately turned, gun drawn, finding not Eliksni, but another Guardian, to her surprise.

With a mix of bronze and crimson swathing his armor and cloak, the Guardian that stood before Ashe was a Hunter as well, his attire far more discernable from the rest. His cloak took after the Legend of the Six Coyotes, one of the first Hunters to ever venture over the Cosmodrome wall. Around his neck, the cloak was fashioned into a scarf, which even had a Cosmodrome insignia patched onto it. He probably had more patches on the back of his cloak, but Ashe didn’t care to look.

He even wore the Iron Companion helmet. They didn’t even make those anymore.

The other Hunter saluted, his hand rising over the front of his helmet. “Good fight, Guardian,” he congratulated grandly. “If it weren’t for your excellent shadowshot placement, that fight would have lasted longer than it should.”

“I shot it _at_ the Captain though… nothing to be congratulatory about...” Ashe rubbed at the back of her helmet awkwardly. She did somehow feel to be indebted to this Guardian, despite her not wanting the help. She glanced at the wire rifle in his hand and quirked a brow. “Fan of Fallen weaponry? Banshee’ll get offended if you even walk his direction with that, y’know.”

“Fret not, while we’ve had our debates about such a topic, Banshee is a dear friend. Not that you would know anything about that, Miss Winters.”

“...Excuse me?”

Cutting off their conversation, Blink appeared next to Ashe’s head, suddenly. He seemed almost relieved, happy, even, to see another Guardian that isn’t his own.

“Incoming transmission from Cayde. He sounds worried.”

Ashe sighed, mentally keeping the previous conversation inside an imaginary vault for now. She kept an eye on the other Hunter. “Patch him through.”

The channels crackled and beeped, and before she knew it, Cayde’s voice found her ears. Never before did she find it so soothing until today.

“—Okay, wow, never do that again. I’ve been trying to call you and… christ, you gave me a heart attack, and I don’t even have one. Anyway, you alive, Ashe? You good? I’m not just talking to your Ghost again, am I?”

The Awoken almost chuckled. “Yeah, I’m still kickin’. Met another Guardian along the way.”

“Ooh, ooh. Okay, don’t tell me—bronze armor? Red cloak? Got patches all over it?”

The aforementioned Hunter sounded a small chuckle unlike his counterpart. “Yes it’s me, Cayde. Your girl put up a good fight against the Fallen.”

“Alright!” The Vanguard sounded a tad too excited about this. What was he planning? “This is great, I’m knocking out two birds with one stone like this. And Ikora says I’m not good at organizing,” he said jubilantly. “Alright. Ashe? Meet your newest fireteam leader, Pellanor-17.”

The two words hit the Awoken like a skiff falling out of the sky—and she knew what that felt like firsthand, definitely. The feeling that washed over her was almost as painful than any other death she had endured in the past.

Ashe remained silent for a moment. Her head crooked subtly towards her Ghost, then towards the man—rather, Exo, judging by the name—named Pellanor.

“...Excuse me?” she said again, incredulously.

“Gesundheit,” Pellanor commented.

“Now, I know Zavala said you’d be meeting your fireteam tomorrow, but hear me out—this could be a good experience for you,” Cayde said. “Remember, a Guardian’s light is strongest when they are not alone—”

“End transmission, Blink.” Upon her order, the Ghost immediately closed the channel, cutting Cayde off completely.

Behind Ashe, her sparrow materialized behind her, and she wordlessly embarked upon it, glaring at the Exo from behind her helmet as she did.

“No,” she said. “Hell no.”

Pellanor placed his hand along the chassis of the sparrow in an attempt to keep the other Hunter from taking off. “Miss Winters, this is under a direct order from the Vanguard that we must group up. To deny it would be—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” she began. “First of all, it’s _Ashe_. Not Winters, Miss Winters, Ashe Winters—just Ashe. Second of all, I told the Vanguard to their faces that I ain’t groupin’ up with no fireteam, and there ain’t a damn thing they can do about—”

The familiar roar of skiff engines breaking through orbit resounded through the horizon. From the sound of it, it wasn’t a simple patrol, not after what the two Hunters did.

“Guardians, multiple hostiles approaching fast! A lot of them!” Blink warned.

Pellanor looked at his fellow Hunter sternly. “Alright, _Ashe_ , you were saying? I doubt you have the ammo for three skiffs worth of Fallen after the previous fight. Would you like to chance it solo?”

She could hear the smugness in his voice, that snide bastard. She also took notice to the dire tone he used as well. From how he spoke, she figured Pellanor wasn’t a man of many jokes. On top of that, did Ashe really want to take her chances with an assault force of Fallen with little ammo?

“...Call your sparrow, and follow my lead. I don’t want to hear a thing from you until we get there.”

  
Nodding, the Exo summoned his sparrow and boarded as well. “Very well. Lead the way.”


	3. Duo

The Tower comms blared and chattered. It was a cacophony that invaded the ears of those who did so much as walk through the main plaza.

With zest, the Frame operating the intercom made the announcement: the double fireteam of Guardians sent to the moon had succeeded—Crota, Son of Oryx had been defeated, brought to his knees and cut down with a blade used by one of his writhing swordbearers. An act thought almost impossible by a select few, including certain members of the Vanguard. No doubt were they reluctant about approving such a mission to begin with. Lord Shaxx probably had the biggest grin on his face.

In that instant the Tower—nay—the entire Last City erupted with excitement. Cheers from every vicinity, every Titan, every Warlock and Hunter of every faction, every discipline. From the hanger, the Speaker’s quarters, and from the main plaza. Doubtless of who they were, Awoken, Exo, or human, this was a day for the Light to rejoice.

Ashe wasn’t there to witness it. Patrols were far more important to her than staying cooped up, similar to a certain Hunter Vanguard. She was within earshot, however just off the coast of reaching the wall to the Cosmodrome. While she was seldom the type to trouble herself with celebrating anything, small victories in particular, this became one of those rare moments where she acted out of impulse, and joined the cheers of her brethren. She and another Guardian.

“We’ve done it, Ashe! We’ve done it!” The Titan’s voice was colored with unrefined joy after removing her helmet. The delight and jubilation on her expression was a memory the Hunter held dear. Her freckled face, smiling brightly, becoming pink along the cheeks. With her emerald green pupils widening with exultation and bliss, it was a look of pure euphoric happiness. No doubt was the Hunter surprised by it.

A moment of confusion had taken Ashe by surprise as she was pulled forward into the comfort of the other Guardian’s arms. “What are you—?”

There was no answer from the Titan, only a single movement, leading whatever distance there was between the two to be closed—and for the Awoken’s lips to be taken by hers.

Confusion riddled the air, followed by vivid shock, but Ashe did not protest or move against such an advance. Instead, after merely seconds of internally fighting with herself, she reciprocated, wrapping the other woman tightly into her embrace. Her movements, they were simple and with meaning. Natural even. It was as if she had done this before.

Retracting from the kiss, the Hunter looked the other Guardian in the eyes, her lungs refusing to allow a sentence to billow past her lips. She was starstruck. Transfixed. The woman before her was like a walking memory before her, a live image of happy times, now gone away forever. 

And similar to such a fashion, the woman before her, along with the world around them—the scene of the wall of Old Russia, the Tower in the distance, complete with the Traveler in its wake, Twilight Gap, and the Guardian’s patrolling its interior—it all began to dissipate before Ashe’s very eyes, becoming consumed by a force indiscernible to the Awoken’s eyes, reminding her of a time most familiar to her: when the darkness flourished and took everything.

That’s what was happening.

Everything around them was being consumed, and the Titan? She was reduced to bones stripped most bare, then to dust.

With a start, followed by a sudden gasp, Ashe darted upwards. With her hand almost notched towards her gun, she was relieved to find not what horrors she had seen before, but a cave in its stead. The familiar sensation of snow and rock below her never had been so serene up until now.

She truly knew that she was back to the land of the living once she heard her Ghost’s light chirping.

“Guardian? Ashe. Your heart rate has risen drastically. Are you alright?”

Ashe looked on with silent bewilderment. Something caused the woman to feel along her armor, from her gauntlets to her boots. She didn’t know why, but it just felt natural enough to check that she was intact. She couldn’t have been too careful.

The Ghost chirped again, only this time it was drawn out and laced with concern. “Ashe?”

“What? Huh? Yeah, I’m good.” The Hunter sat upwards, a slowly-forming look of marose betraying her words. She wasn’t going to tell Blink that she was startled from a bad dream. “Just haven’t gotten much sleep. A bit jumpy.”

“You? Jumpy?” Blink floated near Ashe’s shoulder, his eye narrowed scrutinizingly. “That hardly sounds like my Guardian.”

Silently the Hunter removed her helmet, and she’d issue a glare most seething to the floating, mechanical piece of Light, to which he would immediately find his queue to back off. Though Ashe’s face was finally revealed, the hood from her cloak would remain.

Ashe peered over to the ground, silently dropping her scowl. A sigh then unraveled, breath made visible from the brisk air. From her side, the Ghost hovered closely. It’s gears whirred and it gave a low, glum beep.

“It was about her again, wasn’t it?” the Ghost asked.

A sickening feeling welled up in the Guardian’s stomach. Whatever it was, whatever she’d dreamt about, it was enough to get her to lose composure.

“Eyes up, Guardian.”

A voice other than her Ghost echoed towards the cave, followed by a collection of footsteps. Ashe could tell by how a step was heard quickly after the other, the person who called after her was in a hurry. 

It was then that she recognized the voice immediately to be Pellanor’s, and her glare renewed itself.

The Exo peeked into the cave, albeit cautiously—as courtesy for the Lady Guardian—and looked at her with a face of dread and urgency. “I got good news and bad news; take your pick.”

“I’ll bite. What’s the good news?” she asked, a brow raised at him.

“Your route worked. The Fallen lost track of us miles ago.”

Considering how I don’t have a shrapnel launcher aimed at my face, I gathered that, she thought. “And the bad news?”

“Your route also led us outside the transmat zone, which is days away from here on foot.” He didn’t look at Ashe, just scowled at the ground as if he were blaming himself. Not for allowing this to happen, but for following the other Hunter to begin with. He sighed then, and with a clap of his hands he entered the cave completely to take a seat along the dirt in front of Ashe. “Any ideas?”

“Aren’t you the leader of this so-called fireteam?” Ashe peered at him with the same quirked brow, followed by a smug look. “I woulda figured coming up with master plans would be your forte.”

The gears within the Exo’s cheeks and jaw flickered a couple times, followed by what sounded like a chuckle. “Oh, see, I’m not doing anything. You got us into this mess; now you’re getting us out.”

As the conversation spurred south, the air around the two Hunters had become heavy. A hole was practically burned into Pellanor’s forehead under the piercing, scrutinizing gaze of Ashe Winters, and he was promptly reminded of her past exploits and antics. A tiger without her claws, he thought of her as. A jester in the eyes of the Vanguard, and her fellow Guardians alike. Pellanor had met with his share of rebellious Hunters—about all of them were—but each and every one of them would perk up and get serious when it came down to it.

Ashe? He was beginning to realize why Zavala would never shut up about her.

“Me? What the hell can I do?” A curt grunt emitted from her voice. “Most I can tell ya is to start walking if you’re so impatient to get out of here. Better yet, I’m sure the sparrow link reaches this far out. Get in range of transmat that way.”

Her voice was filled with a snide sense of dismissal and disingenuous smugness. Ashe only ignored the other Hunter, turning away from him with a scoff. More and more, she was making even less of a good impression to her newest fireteam leader. In fact, the reason why Ashe had such an infamous reputation amongst her peers was being shown to Pellanor plain as day.

“What did you even come out here for anyway? You don’t seem to be on patrol, no assignments, nothing. Your Ghost doesn’t seem to have any missions tracked either.” Pellanor planted an accusing gaze on the Awoken, who just grunted in response.

“It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business? Guardian, as leader, it’s my obligation to know what my fireteam is doing. You’re out here, putting yourself in harm’s way, nearly getting yourself killed, and that’s none of my business?”

It seemed as if Ashe had gone back in time, from before she made the trip out here. Her body moved on its own, and she was standing over Pellanor, same as she did with Commander Zavala.

“Look—I came out here because I chose to. What makes you think I give a damn who you are? You could be Queen Mara Sov in the flesh for all I care, and I still wouldn’t put what you say to thought.”

“Are we really doing this?” Blink huffed, floating in between the two Guardians. “Don’t you think we should work on getting back to transmat?”

The two glared at the Ghost, then at each other. They both had cut gazes from each other simultaneously, with Ashe placing her helmet back on and Pellanor exiting the cave in turn. She would eventually join him grudgingly. Anything to get back to the Tower safe and sound.

She drew her handcannon, eyes scanning the barrel closely for any damage. “So where to?”

“Back where we came, of course. All it takes is hopping on our sparrows and retracing our steps, right?” Pellanor stepped down the hill, gaining distance away from the cave, and Ashe as well. He summoned his Ghost, it’s form levitating over his palm. “Spark, anywhere nearby where we can restock on ammo—not occupied by Fallen or Hive?”

“Yes.” The Ghost’s voice was monotonous, but obedient. It was a breath of fresh air compared to Blink. “I’m picking up multiple stashes of ammunition, in a chest. Likely left behind by other Guardians who strayed too far from the Transmat Zone. I also sense a stockpile of spinmetal if that interests you.”

The Exo chuckled. “Just the ammo, thanks. Set a destination marker.”

“Very well, Guardian.”

He turned to find Ashe, giving a peculiar look. “What is it?”

“You named him?” she asked, astonishment obvious in her voice.

“Is that a problem?”

“Other Guardians just settle with calling them ‘Ghost’.”

“Well they keep us alive, and do a bit more than trip alarms. I like to think they’re grizzled companions with a purpose, rather than just hunks of metal, light and wires, built to bring us back when we make a mistake.” 

The Ghost, Spark, flittered around Pellanor as he spoke, perhaps happily. His words likely reached the AI positively. Ashe didn’t want to admit it, but it was a good thing he thought that much. Some Guardians did think of their Ghosts as mere mechanized medics, doing them the miracle of granting them life once more if they were to fall. Despite the daunting predicaments they would find themselves venturing with their Guardian every day, there wasn’t a single complaint from them as they would have to expand their shells to begin the revival process. There wasn’t a complaint anywhere. All the Guardian had to do was protect the Light.

They owed the Ghosts—the Traveler, that much.

The Awoken, she gave Pellanor an approving nod. She didn’t say much else before summoning her sparrow. There was already much tension between the two; and Ashe had no means of testing it with any more words of ill will and rebelle. 

The two sped off, taking the Ghost’s direction in mind. They remained cautious, however. Wherever there was ammunition, they knew not of what would await them in the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait; was a little uninspired while writing this chapter. Without spoiling anything at all, the next flurry of chapters will focus on both Ashe and Pell's partnership and will go on from there.


	4. Someone to torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low on ammunition and backed into a corner with the Fallen, Ashe and Pellanor think of a way to deal with their ilk.

The two Hunters halted along the side of a hill, just a few meters before its zenith. There was a moment of stillness once they disembarked. One of them thought to say something to set the mood, but determined that was established long ago.

Standing at the edge of the hill, they sent each other simultaneous, brief glances. It was out of shock that the Guardians’ heads crooked to gaze at each other’s faces, a silent moment of breathlessness as they saw a small colony just across the gap the hill created. There weren’t too many colonies on Earth anymore, with the mass migration to the Last City and all. Seeing one miles away from the Cosmodrome was not only surprising, but it sent a foreboding vibration through the Hunters’ bodies to know that not everyone was equipped well enough to venture towards the Traveler. 

Pellanor thought to gather a larger fireteam, just to usher the colony’s denizens to a place safer than this. In the meantime, ammunition first.

The Exo Hunter didn’t quite make a sudden stop, but his footing was nearly lost as he found Ashe’s arm blocking his path. He sent her a silent glare, and she only shook her head. “Take a closer look.”

Issuing a quick scan of the colony, Pellanor’s eyes widened. Just now had he noticed the battalion of Vandals, clad with their shock blades. Just now had he noticed they were ravaging the colonies, setting the houses aflame. Just now, he’d noticed that there was blood spilled among them—the colonists.

_ Bastards,  _ he thought. The leather in his gauntlets tightened, aided by his clenched fist in anger. Just then, each bit from his exoskeleton tightened up. He would have grabbed for his wire rifle if Ashe had not stopped him again.

“Hold on there, sheriff. You got the ammo for that?” she reminded him in somewhat of a passive manner. The Awoken then popped open the cylinder of her handcannon in turn, only to make sure that her partner wasn’t alone. Empty. Her reserves were dry as well. “Damn it. We can’t just leave them.”

Pellanor clicked his tongue. He had no plans of that anyway, ammo or no. “What  _ do _ you have?”

With pleading hope, Ashe quickly rifled through her belt. She murmured to herself, hoping that she’d have  _ something  _ of use.  _ Anything. _

Her expression dropped to a frown. The woman fished out one smoke capsule and two spike grenades with quivering hands. 

She didn’t count her knife. 

To a Hunter, it was like a pair of keys; something they would never leave home without. It was no different from a Warlock’s book, or whatever a Titan would carry. In light, of course both Ashe and Pellanor would have their knives.

Sighing, the Exo held up a tripmine grenade, a face appearing most defeated. The helmet hid that much, but his albeit shocked and hesitant movements regarded otherwise.

“And with what little ammo we have, that’s makes it enough to take out a good number of them... if there aren’t any captains looming about. Best case scenario, they’ll run once they see that their numbers are being scratched off fairly quickly,” Pellanor mumbled, stepping forward while giving Ashe a nod. He absently wished that he brought a Titan along.  _ They could just punch everything and be done with it,  _ he concluded.

Hurriedly, they slid down the hill.  As they ebbed towards the bottom, the harrowing stench of fire and embers became more potent. The Fallen, no matter which house they hailed from, were known to be ruthless creatures. Them burning a colony to the ground surprised neither Guardian; they only hoped the people occupying it were still breathing.

From each corner, the colonists fled, their screams validating their fear. The Vandals determinedly gave chase, brandishing their blades, wounding those unlucky to be in their paths.

Ashe took mental notes of her grenades. Pellanor did the same, keeping a thumb hovered over the tripmine’s trigger. Without communicating as much, the two separated, taking off into speedy dashes towards different corners of the colony, albeit discreetly.

A handful of Vandals were in the town’s center, rounding up whatever colonist they managed to seize without bloodshed. 

Above them was the skiff that likely had brought their ilk here, floating oppressively in the sky. In their language, the Eliksni barked orders at the colonists, gesturing their blades towards the skiffs after placing collars around their necks. The men, women, and children of the small colony did not comply, however. How could they? There was no possible way to know their tongue. So why did the Fallen get even more agitated when they remained still? Petrified?

This started out as a simple patrol mission. To get out of that Tower and to blow off some steam. To keep from making the Tower into the world’s biggest Crucible match, with Ashe and Zavala as the only two players.

It wasn’t the Awoken’s day.

Void light welled up in her hands again, and the ephemeral bow materialized once more. Pulling back on the string, a screech reaped through the sound barrier, startling the pack of Eliksni before her. As she released the arrow, a purple bolt of energy cut through the path, passing by the colonists along the way, only to crash into one of the Vandals. A web was spun, made up of the null energy manifested by the Hunter, which caught the other Fallen, rending all ability to move. 

“Duck!” she ordered the colonists.

Closing the distance between her and the group with a spike grenade in hand, she stuck one of them onto the incapacitated Vandal, and it activated—a thick cone of potent void light blossoming from its core, razing the flesh of its kin that happened to be in the way. As they saw Ashe sprint towards them, the colonists knew better than to be in a Guardian’s line of fire. They did so swiftly, like it was second nature.

Turning on her heel, in a swift, flawless motion, she’d slide her knife from its holster and jam it into a Vandal’s neck. It was akin to a dance, a precise string of movements that sent the Eliksni to the ground with final wails with lethal succession. Much like a Bladedancer in the Crucible.

Holstering her short blade, she gave the colonists a quick glance. A lot of them were still shaken up from the attack, and rightfully so, that they were hesitant to even look the Hunter, their savior, in the face. That was probably the last thing on their lists to think about, Ashe figured.

The Awoken woman took a step from the crowd and eyed the skiff above her. It didn’t seem to move. Had it noticed that its forces were taken out? Where was the pilot?

She buzzed through her comms. “Uh, Pellanor? I might have a slight issue regarding the pilot.”

A slight surge of static invaded the other Hunter’s ears, followed by a string of gunfire heard from Pellanor’s end. “Yeah?! That makes two of us! Heads up!”

As if on cue, the Exo Hunter slid out from a corner behind a townhouse mere meters away from where his partner stood. As he fled, rounds from a Captain’s shrapnel launcher followed after him—only faster—narrowly piercing his shields.

Well, now they knew where the missing pilot was. What a time to meet a captain with low ammo.

“Pell!” Ashe called out. As he ran, the Exo shot an estranged glare at the woman for the slight butchering of his name.

He clicked his tongue. “Kinda busy trying to live, here…!”

“Your tripmine!”

“Yes, explosives! Good observation, Winters! What about it!?”

“Throw it!”

He almost laughed at the absurdity of Ashe’s plan. “At this proximity!?”

“It’ll be fine!” She yanked her handcannon from its holster. “I’m a good shot.”

_ Are you stupid?  _ That’s what he wanted to ask her. Whether she was able to shoot his grenade out of the air or not;  _ that _ wasn’t his concern.

Regardless, there wasn’t much time to come up with another hair-brained scheme with what little resources they possessed. There wasn’t much choice either.

It was now or never for Pellanor.

He had to choose—him, or the people of the colony?

“...Yeah, okay. Fine!”

Reaching into his side pocket, the Hunter yanked one of his few remaining tripmine grenades, gripping it tightly so as to not drop it in the heat of the moment. There was little effort in ensuring that any mistakes would be made—on the other hand, this was a mistake on its own. That said, was it possible to make an error while intentionally committing another?

Pellanor-17 dispelled such thoughts from his processors as he hemmed his thumb along the detonator, preparing to arm it. The rampaging Captain edged near him, with its blades approaching ever closer than before. The Exo could feel the arc energy lash out from the small distance he was from the Eliksni.

Anytime now, Pellanor.

With a hastened motion, he slammed the detonator. It made an assuring beep and projected a subtle red cone on the other end. It was a haunting reminder of the many tripmines he would encounter—and often be killed by—in the Crucible, not that he participated that often anyways.

In a swift double-back, he tossed the grenade into the air, towards the Captain.

Ashe was already peering down the crosshairs of her handcannon.

An explosion wrapped around both Guardians’ sights, a blossom of flame which evaporated and consumed the air, taking part of the Captain, and regrettably Pellanor, along with it. 

Unlike the explosion, their deaths were silent. No cries of agony rang from either of them.

In the explosion’s aftermath, a torrent of updraft dust remained, and along with it, Pellanor’s Ghost, its shell expanded. Spark floated docilely over his Guardian, sounding a downcasted whir as it began the process for resurrection. 

Ashe rushed over to the Ghost. She couldn’t begin to think of the amount of begrudged apologizing it would take for Pellanor to  _ not  _ shoot her seconds after being revived. She hovered a hand over the expanded Ghost, dispensing a small fraction of her light into it to speed up the process.    
  
It wasn’t even that long before the Hunter had quite literally returned to the land of the living, a glimmering blue light flashing and enveloping his new body as he appeared before Ashe, presumably frowning. It was expected, all things considered.

For the first time, the Awoken was tongue-tied in front of another Guardian. She tried opening her mouth to alleviate the tension, to lighten the load already placed upon her fireteam leader’s shoulders. Maybe tell a snide joke. Probably a stupid pun about explosions. It went without saying that she hesitated.

“Everyone okay?” he asked, his voice low and suddenly collected after granting himself a moment to sigh.

“Everyone but the Fallen.” Ashe gestured to the haphazardly sprawled corpses of the attackers. “I don’t see any seriously wounded.”

He shook his head. “That’s not good enough. We need to make sure they’re alright.”

Pellanor began to approach the crowd of settlers, but he went no further as a hand found his shoulder, stopping him. He quirked his head to see Ashe connected to it. 

He couldn’t wait to hear this one.

“This better be good, Winters.”

“Okay, Tex. Are we suddenly medics now? Are we expected to mend a human’s wounds with the supplies we  _ don’t _ have? We can hardly keep ourselves alive long enough in a gunfight to remember that oh—our Ghosts do the healing for us. Wasn’t that how this always worked?”

It was a sudden jerk of Pellanor’s shoulder that he shifted away from Ashe. The frustration in his voice was clear under the grunt he made. Now seething, he snapped an incredulous stare at the Awoken, a toxic mix of frustration and disappointment in his eyes. She was crooked. Part of him wondered of the possibility of another Dredgen Yor situation. He wanted to tear into Ashe, to chide her and remind the girl of her duty as a Guardian. He wanted to tell her how surprised he was, and that she might as well had sided with the Darkness after all. 

But all of that would have been wasted breath, wouldn’t it?

Unmoving, he stared at the other Hunter. “Why were you ever chosen by the Light? What was your Ghost thinking when…—what did the Traveler see in someone like you?”

He glanced below to see the quivering fist of the Awoken woman, immediately after his comment. He could feel the malice and simmering anger at that sudden movement alone. In hindsight, that was probably one of the greatest insults to a Guardian, especially one so… misguided and lost. Immediately, as if upon instinct, he prepped himself for a punch to the face.

Instead, there was nothing. Only the visage of Ashe Winters, with her helmet removed.

There it was: her blue face lush with regret and melancholy. Her jaw ached and her eyes burned with forever-unresolved anger.  She didn’t even look Pellanor in the eye. 

“Someone to torment,” she murmured.

There was a moment of stillness between the two. The tension was high, but it was silent nevertheless.

Pellanor stumbled. After allowing the words to register, he slowly but surely backed off, with a reply stuck in his chest. With disbelief and bewilderment, the rebuttal was most definitely there, he was unsure how to make it now.

“Ashe… I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Guardian!”

A voice in the distance cut Pellanor off. For a split second, he turned to see one of the settlers approaching them with a relieved look in his eyes. The exo immediately turned back to Ashe.

Just then, she was gone. Even on labored legs, she left, leaving no trace of her presence. He didn’t see which way she fled either, not even with his peripheral vision. On top of that, she didn’t come up on his radar. When Pellanor asked the settler about her, he appeared puzzled and gave a shrug of his shoulders. 

Regardless of this, the man shook the Hunter’s hand in appreciation. It was as if Ashe was never there.

Nightstalkers.


	5. Paranoia and Distrust

The audible click-clack of boots within The Tower’s northern region were extra speedy today. It was a Thursday so not many Guardians pestered Banshee or Shaxx today.

One set of footsteps were specifically paced towards the Vanguard Hall, where they might find a certain Hunter Vanguard, and it wasn’t to pick up a package either.

Pellanor eased his way past the daily crowd of Guardians (all while preemptively avoiding Lord Shaxx and Eris along the way. There were two reasons for that), and slipped into the Hall. Like usual, Ikora, Zavala, and Cayde—precisely who he was looking for—were there, huddled around the war table, discussing ways on dispatching the forces of Darkness for good. 

There were mentions of driving the Fallen and Vex off Venus from Ikora, letting that be the first step of starting anew. But driving off beings as unfeeling and collective as even the Vex seemed too unreasonable. There was a suggestion by Zavala; of taking back small sectors of the the moon one by one, thus correcting the disaster at Mare Imbrium. However, the Hive ranked in the millions, maybe even more than that. None of them wanted to estimate how many thrived within the Hellmouth to this day.

Even with Crota defeated, absolute victory seemed vastly far.

Cayde didn’t say much for once. Discussing things eight steps ahead of where they actually were wasn’t the Exo’s favorite thing to do in the world.

From the corner of his eye, he then spotted a waving Pellanor, with an urgent glare fixed upon him.   
  
“‘Scuse me a sec. I, uhh, gotta use the little Hunter’s room.” He tore himself away from the other two, leaving them puzzled for a moment. They continued without him regardless.

He gingerly stepped outside of the Hall, meeting the other Exo Hunter, who had not looked the slightest bit pleased.

“Okay, I’ll take the bait—what did I do this time?” he said wearily, giving his metallic forehead a rub.

“Your girl’s got issues, Cayde.” Once again, Pellanor’s voice was low and collected. He tended to do that when he got mad.

The Vanguard raised a brow in confusion before he realized which of _his_ _girls_ he referred to. Cayde then let an expecting sigh slip.

“You mean the same issues we discussed Ashe having, right? The same issues you insisted, by the way, you could handle? Those issues?”

“I—”

“Okay, Pell? You’re my friend, my amigo. And so is Ashe. So, here’s what I’m gonna do.” Pellanor felt a sense of relief for a moment. Was Cayde actually going to do his job for once?

At least that’s what he thought until he saw the famed—or perhaps infamous Hunter Vanguard swiftly turn on a heel to walk away, with ginger-like pep in his movements.

“Cayde?” Pellanor’s voice was uneasy as he watched him walk off without a care in the world. “Where’re you going?”

“Got a bowl of spicy ramen with my name on it. You, in the meantime, can go talk to Ashe in the hangar. Maybe calm her down?” Even while he was speaking, the other Exo didn’t stop his pace. He was definitely smirking from behind the back of that hood. “Good luck!”

Pellanor watched as Cayde mindfully eased past Eris Morn, then walked up the stairs, his cloak being the last thing he saw before it vanished completely within the corridor. 

An exasperated sigh had left Pellanor’s lungs. In hindsight, he should have went to Zavala first... but he feared that would have made matters worse.

His Ghost had materialized next to him, sounding a low hum while staring scrutinizingly at the Guardian before it. Pellanor backed away in turn, peering back at the mechanical bit of light with a raised brow.

“...What?” he asked.

Spark only shook its shell, as if disapprovingly. “I picked up an… unusual rise in tension from your body and thought something was wrong. But I see now that feeling within you was guilt. Unusual indeed.”

Almost immediately, the Exo frowned. Was that some sort of joke?

It didn’t feel so good hearing something like that come from the maw of another sentient hunk of metal with a painfully monotone voice. It made him think back to the Cosmodrome, back to that exact moment Ashe had abandoned the fireteam. Her exact expression and her precise words… and the venom that were laced in between them. His too.

The Ghost’s words resonated with him. Was he really so cold and unfeeling to not consider Ashe’s feelings? Was he wrong for being angry?

No, certainly not.

No matter which angle he looked at it from; Ashe wanted to abandon those wounded settlers. She was already lucky he didn’t include that in the patrol report.

“Think about it this way,” Spark began, nessling under the Hunter’s cloak, “if a Guardian had treated their Ghost in an ill manner—if they had fell in battle and was revived by the Ghost, only to berate them for not resurrecting more instantly—would that Ghost want to stay around that Guardian? Would the Ghost want to continue to revive him if they know they are going to be treated poorly?”

“...What are you getting at?” Pellanor finally asked.

“Wrong or not; Ashe Winters is still a part of your fireteam—a vital part, since there is only two of you. Try not to be so confrontational, otherwise this little… disagreement… you two are having will continue.”

He sighed. Pellanor wondered how an A.I was able to have a such a lenient conscience. Then again, people have probably wondered one way or another how an Exo could speak, react, or even mimic emotion, much like other humans. Fortunately that was no longer the case, thanks to the Golden Age.

On the matter of that Awoken though, she was a completely different problem altogether.

—

The Tower hangar surged with the collective sounds of roaring engines and smelled of distinctly of oil and jet fuel. Just what you’d expect from any hangar, really. 

It was a soothing sight, watching the frames direct incoming ships inside to be stored for the next time the pilot would transmat right back out and leave for the next adventure that awaited them. It reminded Ashe of the Reef, vague scenes of her past life flashing scarcely in her mind. Scenes of the Awoken people going about their lives without a care in the world. Scenes of the crest bore by the Queen’s Guard, leering over them, a somehow implicit way of telling the people that they were at the very least  _ safe _ in the presence of Mara Sov. At least before the Reef Wars.

Simpler times. Times that were quite literally a distant, unattainable memory.

The Awoken sat along a collection of stacked crates, just out of the way of the workers. She watched in silence as her features still showed signs of frustration.

Blink had nearly reminded her that it's been hours since she returned from the Cosmodrome, but it concluded that telling the Hunter how long she’s been miffed will only worsen the situation.

After a moment to compile a safe enough inquiry, it chirped. “I don’t suppose a few rounds in the Crucible won’t hurt?”

As much as the Hunter loved making a few extra holes into a Warlock’s face with her knife, she had to pass. The Crucible was great for many things: training and stress relief was ultimately one of them. What Ashe felt was something Lord Shaxx could not remedy.

With a scoff, she turned away from the Ghost, cutting her gaze back to the large hangar doors. The sun was almost fully risen, and life began to fill into the Tower once more, as Guardians and human workers and vendors began pouring inside to perform their morning rituals before opening up shop. The Future War Cult window began to illuminate, with Lakshmi’s silhouette being seen on the inside, preparing for the first wave of Guardians for the day. Same with Arach Jalaal and Executor Hideo, most likely.

It was almost soothing to watch the Tower’s gears turn. It reminded Ashe why she seldom slept. Because if anything, she would probably oversleep and miss a sight like this.

It was probably Thursday with how slow everything ran. No one bugged Banshee that much, or crowded around that so-called  _ trash collector  _ with strange coins in hand.

This was the Tower right now. This was her life.

“Uhh, hey.” She recognized the voice, sounding hesitant and cautious, as no one other than her fireteam leader.

And thus, her life crumbled once more.

It was like an instinct as Ashe turned to Pellanor with a glare, then returned to peer aimlessly at the rest of the hangar. “You come to yell at me some more?” He began to open his mouth but the Awoken didn’t give him the chance to speak. “Well, hurry it up. I got things to do.”

“You gonna vanish again if I do?” Pellanor heaved a sigh and shook his head before he said something he’d regret. He kept his distance, but stood close enough to stare down at the woman. “Look—I didn’t come to fight with you.”

“Then what?”

“I wanna come to an agreement with you. A compromise.”

Ashe raised a brow. Though he was hesitant in his approach, the Exo seemed genuine. “What kind?”

His voice was raspy when he parted his mechanical lips. “You can pull whatever you want; just make sure it’s within the Traveler’s good graces.”

The Awoken was visibly confused, cajoling another sigh from the other Hunter.

“No abandoning wounded civilians?” he said in the form of a question the Hunter should’ve known the answer to.

Ashe grunted. In hindsight, something like that would be hard to explain to the Vanguard. “Right… that said, they make it out all right?”

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

_ Oops  _ was probably the best thing the Hunter could think to conjure in the short span of time it took to reply. In hindsight, any other Guardian would frown upon what she did. Even Cayde would have shook his head in disappointment. What Ashe did was not only irresponsible: it was just plain  _ evil _ .

Such a _ great  _ impression to leave as a Guardian. 

Her shoulders slumped and a sigh unraveled. A slight frown formed as well, and made fond acquaintance with the ground. “Won’t happen again,” she only said, conceding. “Anything else?”

“Telling me why you were all the way out there would be a good start.” Pellanor suppressed a grin of sorts, or whatever an Exo would typically do to simulate one. He was mildly pleased to see that the other Hunter had some kind of remorse, more than what she displayed in the Cosmodrome. “You weren’t on patrol, weren’t scouting, or gathering materials.”

A second of considering passed and the Awoken grunted. “What do I get out of it?”

“A chance to not pay glimmer for the ammo I wasted on saving you.”

“It’s not like I needed—”

Ashe stumbled on her haphazard rebuttal. If memory served, she was down an arm, had no tactical advantage at the discarded strip of metal she was pinned down from, and she was probably going to be staring down the sights of a shrapnel launcher if Pellanor had not distracted those Fallen. She did, in fact, need help. Of course with the pride of a Reefborn Awoken, and being a Hunter alone; getting Ashe to budge was like getting Lord Shaxx to tell the story about his lost horn, and that alone was an impossible feat on its own.

“Well… I probably would have survived.”

Unmoved, he raised a metal eyebrow. He sat, still as a pillar, waiting for an explanation. Ashe threw up her arms and sighed.

“I just... needed to get away,” she began. “from the Tower, I mean. From the Vanguard and that big broken lightbulb in the sky. Already had a lot on my mind; that run in with Zavala was just a nail in the coffin, I guess.”

Pellanor leaned in, showing genuine interest. He couldn’t begin to wonder how she walked away from that without a fist imprinted on that blue face of hers. “What was it?” 

“The argument with Zavala?”

“No. What was on your mind?”

She found her own brows furrowing. It was like a defense mechanism for Ashe when she sensed someone would be trying to get the better of her. For the year she’s been resurrected and the things she’s done, no other Guardian besides Cayde would lean in for a story told from her mouth.

“You care?” she asked with a tint of disbelief in her voice.

“Well, it’s gotta be something worth talking about if it makes someone crazy enough to curse out Zavala.” He chuckled again.

“I’d like to go on record that I’ve gotten weird looks for this before.”

“Winters, you won’t believe the things I’ve seen or heard among other Hunters, Titans, and Warlocks alike in the past. I’ve fought, tooth and claw with Fallen Barons and Baronesses in personal combat with only a knife. Even with seventeen memory wipes, I still have stories that will make you and everyone in that purple asteroid field up in the sky have nightmares for weeks.” Pellanor’s voice had grown triumphant and proud, not to mention excited. Especially about that one about the Barons. “Trust me, there isn’t a story in the world that will make me budge anymore,” he added.

Trust. That was a word Ashe wished was in her vocabulary again. In truth, it was nothing against the other Guardians, or the Vanguard, or anyone for that matter. From her perspective, a good number of them were fine—more or less. Since her resurrection, she had been exceedingly antisocial, like a rare memory from her past involving being bullied had hit her, and had stuck since then. Of course that wasn’t the case in reality.

In the jumbled, confusing mess Ashe had found herself in, being chosen as a Guardian and whatnot, she was never all that compatible with anyone. Not even the random fireteams she was (forcefully) put in. She had slight memories, or sometimes dreams of her acting so crudely to others, perhaps in a past life, a time before she was revived.

Her eyes narrowed and her gaze tore away from him. She appeared downcasted, and Pellanor saw it plain as day.

“You ever feel like a weapon sometimes?” She watched as the silently glowing beads on his face widen slightly. Just as she predicted. “Like, we Guardians were brought back for just the sole purpose of fighting? No memory of who we are, no knowledge of the world around us. We’re just given a gun, something to shoot at, and a  _ good luck,  _ and then we hope for the best. You ever notice how the more we kill; the more light we’re filled with? Like the Traveler is rewarding us?”

Pellanor said nothing; he figured she wasn’t finished yet. He placed a hand on his chin, making sure the Awoken could see that he was listening.

Ashe shook her head. “I don’t get it. We weigh all of our hope on a dead God. It's what we did in the Golden Age, it's what what we did after the Collapse, and it’s most definitely what we’re doing now.” At this point, she had forgotten where she was going on her tangent and then paused to reacquaint herself. “That Speaker irks me, too.”

“Why the Speaker?” Pellanor now felt it necessary to say something. “He’s done more good than anything. He oversees the City, and guides the Guardians. He might’ve done more than that before the City was built. I think if it weren’t for him we’d be neck deep in the darkness by now.”

“He… doesn’t exactly sell the role too well. When I first arrived to the City last year, I wanted answers. What were we fighting? And why? Instead I left his chambers feeling more confused than ever.”

“So you don’t trust him?”

“I try not to give too many people that luxury already. He’s lower on the list than others.” It was then that she realized that Blink was levitating in front of her face, its single eye flickering a couple times in silence, as if disappointed in it’s Guardian. “Come  _ on,  _ don’t look at me like that. You were there.”

“In my opinion, you’re thinking too far into it, Guardian,” Blink said, “you’re newly risen, just like many others. On hectic days, it's completely normal to have  _ some _ thoughts like that, but…” It’s shell slumped a little for a second, then rose again to look at Ashe, chirping. “You’re just borderline paranoid.”

Ashe was visibly glaring at Blink. It wasn’t one of her usual eyebrow furrows when she got annoyed, no. Plain as day, with her hand clenched into a trembling fist, filled to the brim with rage, she was scowling at her Ghost. Anyone standing there probably suspected that she was thinking of smashing the little bot right there.

Nothing was worse than a Guardian with a temper.

She found Pellanor’s hand on her shoulder, suddenly. His fingers curled comfortingly around her armor’s shoulder pad, mostly to stop her from doing anything the both of them would regret. Thankfully, the tension in her arm ceased, and her hand unclenched itself.

“While I’d normally agree with your Ghost—you are thinking too far into it—I can’t judge you for having these thoughts in the first place,” he said, his voice now sullen. You couldn’t tell that his mood changed from his expression alone considering how Exos lacked that ability. “I… I can attest to what he said though; we all have these thoughts, these desires to get away—to run and never look back. Its normal. We’re all technically human in the end… some just have a different way of showing it, is all. Zavala’s the same way, but, you know. Titans.”

Ashe turned away and placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a chuckle. Pellanor hummed and looked on at the hangar, pretending not to notice.

“Try not to bump heads with him so often. Guy has a heart too.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.” She mocked a salute, smirking.

Everything was going to be okay. Right?


End file.
